


Iron and Ash

by sacredgeometry



Series: Symmetry and Scars [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, This isn't it, if you're looking for a romance story, maybe if you turn your head and squint, mostly follows canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24412465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacredgeometry/pseuds/sacredgeometry
Summary: Kira, a young Fire Nation noble-turned-war refugee, sneaks onto a Fire Nation military ship in a desperate attempt to feed herself. When she gets captured, she realizes she’d chosen the ship of Zuko, the banished prince of the Fire Nation. Always one to put survival first, she convinces Zuko to spare her life—she just has to help him capture the Avatar.
Relationships: Zuko (Avatar) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Symmetry and Scars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762948
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	1. Wretched Winnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first foray into the world of fanfiction. After rewatching Avatar like half the world is right now, I decided to write the character I always wanted to see in the series. 
> 
> The story follows the three seasons of the original series, with the first book, Iron and Ash, corresponding to Book 1: Water. It starts around Episode 3, after Zuko's Agni Kai with Zhao. It's going to be a little more mature than the series and delve into some darker aspects/effects of war.
> 
> Please leave comments and constructive critisicm, this is also the first thing I've really written in a long time and would love some feedback!

_A white-hot flash of fire. The hushed whisper of a man: “Take this. Now leave, hurry!” A woman’s scream._

* * *

Kira waits with bated breath as a group of soldiers turn the corner where she crouches. She hears their muffled voices making small talk, something about another ship’s commander, but Kira pays their words no mind, more concerned with the faltering echo of their footsteps. When she can no longer hear them, she exhales, her breath steamy and thick against the scarf wrapped around her face. 

_3…2…1._ Kira darts around the corner, slips into the door the soldiers had come out of. She closes it silently—difficult, considering it’s made out of steel—and tries to get her bearings. She’s seen other Fire Nation ships, has even toured a couple as a child, so she has a good idea where the galley would be located. The hallway before her stands empty, almost suspiciously so, but Kira figures that most of the soldiers have taken advantage of their time at port.

She makes her way down the dim hallway, silent. It isn’t Kira’s first time sneaking somewhere she shouldn’t be, although she doesn’t exactly make a habit of stealing from Fire Nation ships. She’s desperate, to tell the truth. It’s been almost a week without a real meal, so when she’d seen the crew disembark from afar, the hollow feeling in her stomach had far outweighed the voice of her conscience. 

She reaches the galley, sliding the heavy door open and quickly surveying the kitchen area. _Jackpot_. Apples, a couple loafs of bread, and some komodo sausages, recently cooked for whoever was set to return to this ship. Kira’s mouth waters at the sight—it’s been some time since she’d had decent meat. Kira takes a moment to thank the spirits—and the Fire Nation—for feeding her that night.

Stuffing her winnings into her rucksack, she hurries out of the galley and back onto the deck of the ship. Any other night, she would have been extra careful to listen for footsteps before opening the door, but lack of sustenance has clouded her senses. 

At least that’s what she tells herself, as she opens the door and runs right into a Fire Nation soldier. 

_Fuck._

* * *

Zuko’s mind is buzzing. He feels pride—at himself, for winning the Agni Kai—guilt—for giving into such a childish urge to fight the commander—anger—at Zhao, at the spirits, at the Avatar. Always, anger.

He makes his way up the ship’s ramp, his uncle next to him. Pride, guilt, anger aside, he’s exhausted. The fight took it out of him, and he was looking forward to a long hot bath and some time alone.

Before he can make his way into the cabin, a soldier comes bounding up to him. “Prince Zuko, sir, we—”

“Oh good, please run my bath. And make it extra hot.” Zuko isn’t in the mood for whatever minor inconvenience has befallen the crew tonight.

“Sir, you’re going to want to see this. We found her trying to swipe goods from the galley,” a second soldier offers, and Zuko finally turns to face the two. He’s surprised to see a third figure, standing in between them, hands held behind her back. She’s a young girl, no older than he. She’s staring at the ground, thick brows furrowed in obvious resentment and—does Zuko sense a little bit of embarrassment? _Good_ . He thinks. _I’d be embarrassed if I’d been caught sneaking around a Fire Nation military ship._

“What’s your name, vagrant?” Zuko demands. The girl doesn’t answer, eyes trained to the space in between his feet, brows furrowing even more. Zuko feels a surge of anger at her insubordination. Does she not care that she was defying a member of the Royal Family? He leans down, takes her chin in between his thumb and forefinger. Yanks her face upward.

Reluctant eyes meet his, and Zuko notices that her eyes are a similar deep gold to his own. She has smooth, olive-colored skin, marred only by dark circles under her eyes and a curious scar through her left eyebrow. Her dark hair falls in unruly waves around her face. The look of resentment doesn’t leave her face as she struggles to get out of his grip.

“I _said._ What’s your name, _vagrant?”_ Zuko repeats, sending a flash of warmth through his fingers for good measure. If the girl feels it, she doesn’t dare let him know.

“Kira,” she finally replies, defeated. 

“And what, _Kira_ , are you doing on my ship?”

“My vacation boat was wrecked recently, so I’ve been shopping for a new one.” The corners of the girl’s mouth turn upwards, taking obvious—and irresponsible—delight in playing games. Zuko feels a new surge of irritation rise in him, and he sends another, slightly stronger burst through his fingers. Kira grimaces, but remains silent. Zuko almost respects her for it. At least she knows how to take pain. 

“Prince Zuko, please. She is just a girl. Clearly, she is hungry,” Iroh’s voice comes from beside him. Reluctantly, Zuko releases the girl’s face. He takes secret delight in the red-hot marks where his fingertips had been. 

“Sir, we found this on her body.” One of the soldiers steps forward and hands Zuko a short knife. The hilt is a deep gold color, a crimson dragon winding its way up to the blade. Unmistakably, a Fire Nation weapon. 

“What Fire Nation noble did you steal this from?” Zuko sneers. No way this girl, in her dark dirty clothes, has come into such a fine blade legally.

“I didn’t steal it,” Kira replies, the mocking tone of her previous statement replaced with a venom. 

Zuko lunges for her face again, incensed by the obvious disrespect of this peasant girl, but fee;s a strong hand on his shoulder. Uncle. Zuko exhales deeply, trying to find a semblance of the patience Iroh is always urging him to tap into.

“That’s impossible,” he manages in a moderately calm tone. “This is a fine piece of metalwork from the Fire Nation. Surely a dirty peasant such as yourself doesn’t own something so refined. Unless you mean to tell me that _you’re_ Fire Nation?” As the words come out of his mouth, Zuko can’t help but chuckle. Fire Nation women are polished, elegant in the way they carried themselves. This girl looks like she’d spent the last year running with komodo-rhinos.

Even so, the way Kira jerks her head away from him can’t hide the slight flush that rises to her cheeks. Zuko’s brow furrows. He stares at the girl, urging her to give herself away.

“I haven’t been Fire Nation in a long time.”

“So, you’re a deserter.” Kira’s eyes dart from one spot in the ground to the other, as if she doesn’t know what to say and is looking to the soldiers’ feet for an answer.

“Not by choice,” she settles on.

Zuko sighs. He doesn’t have the time or energy for cryptic answers. He could leave her at the navy port to be dealt with, but Zhao commanded the port, and Zuko would never hear the end of it if he found out a teenage girl had been able to sneak onto his ship. Keeping her aboard would be annoying, but there was less of a chance of his father finding out about his security slip-up.

“Throw her in the prison hole. We’ll drop her at the next Earth Kingdom prison rig.”

As the soldiers drag Kira away, Zuko presses two fingers to his temple. Where there had been a flurry of emotion before, he feels only a headache.

* * *

The soldiers are gruff with Kira as they throw her into the brig, slamming the metal bars behind them. Before they lock her in, one of them—the one she had run into—crouches down to her level. Kira stares at the space between the bars, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You know, a pretty girl like you…” he trails off, his voice sickly sweet. “You might have found yourself in a lot more trouble if you’d chosen a different ship. You’re lucky Zuko isn’t quite as _insatiable_ as some of the other commanders.” He chuckles softly, and Kira swears the sound comes straight from the depths of Hell.

The soldiers finally leave. Kira slumps into the side of her cell. Out of all the dumb choices she’s made, this has to be top three. 

Not only is she a prisoner on a Fire Nation ship, but it’s the _Crown Prince’s_ ship.

And they know where she’s from. 

_And_ on top of that, she’s still starving. 

She wonders numbly if they’ll feed her, or if she’ll die in the brig on the way to prison. If she even makes it there, she’ll certainly die at the work camp. 

She’d heard stories from villagers whose loved ones had been taken to the Earth Kingdom prisons. People with twice her fighting skill _and_ the added bonus of bending hadn’t been able to make it out of there. 

Kira is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice the sound of heavy footsteps coming toward her cell. By the time she registers a figure standing in the dim light, he’s already knelt down in front of the bars.

It’s that older man, the one who had stopped Zuko from burning a hole in her face. In one hand, he’s holding a worn blanket, and in the other, a tray of steaming hot noodles. Against her better judgement, Kira eyes the meal hungrily. 

“Please excuse my nephew. He has a bit of a temper, as I’m sure you have noticed. He knows to treat a beautiful young woman like yourself with more respect, but his thoughts are elsewhere at the moment.” The man sets the tray and blanket down, sliding them beneath the steel bars. Kira eyes him warily. He seems nice enough, and he has kind eyes, but he’s still Fire Nation.

As if reading her mind, the man smiles lightly and quips, “don’t worry, I’m not here to poison you. The royal armies have much stealthier ways of getting rid of you if they so choose.”

Kira decides the meal is safe and scarfs the contents of the bowl down in three big gulps. The noodles are familiarly spicy, a smoky heat that reminds her of her mother’s cooking. She tries not to think about how long it has been since she’s tasted her mother’s cooking.

The man watches silently as she eats and washes the noodles down with an entire jug of water. Only after she’d cleared her tray does he speak.

“I’m Iroh. Prince Zuko’s uncle, and his teacher of sorts.”

“General Iroh.” The name comes off of Kira’s tongue without any prompting. She’d heard of him before, as a ruthless militant hellbent on taking the city of Ba Sing Se in the name of the Fire Nation. Kira doesn’t think he looked so ruthless right now. He looks like the portly older men who gamble on Pai Sho and drink sake in the village squares. 

“I’m not much a general of anything anymore.” Iroh chuckles to himself. “Just call me Iroh.”

“What do you want with me, _Iroh_?” She tries to put hatred into his name, hoping he knows the noodle offering isn’t enough for her to let her guard down. But the exhaustion from the night’s events has sucked the venom out of her, and her words just come across as tired.

“You may no longer align yourself with the Fire Nation, but you cannot completely remove yourself from your home ties. We are kin, and therefore we must look out for each other. My nephew and his soldiers may have handled you roughly, and Prince Zuko may have the final decision in your fate, but he cannot stop me from treating you with kindness.” 

Kira exhales a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding. _Home ties. Kin._ That’s the problem with the Fire Nation—with all the nations, if she’s being truthful. They’re always looking out for their own kind, and they’ll bulldoze over anyone who’s different. Even the villages that had shown her hospitality in the past would have thrown her to the streets if they’d known she wasn’t just some young Earth Kingdom refugee. _I guess I don’t blame them_ , Kira thinks.

She doesn’t appreciate Iroh’s spiel but knows better than to bite the hand that feeds her. He seems like her best bet of surviving long enough to figure out a way off this ship.

Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet when she speaks, barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”


	2. Everybody Has Their Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kira plans her escape from Zuko's ship and gets her first glimpse at the fabled Avatar.

Kira passes the days in the prison hole trying to guess where the ship is headed, calculating roughly when and where they’ll have to dock to refuel. When she gets frustrated with that, she practices her meditation. Koda, a man who was once her master, had always chastised the girl for not being able to sit still and clear her mind. Kira had always found the idea of meditation useless and boring, and whenever she’s about to slip into semi-consciousness, images of fire and a woman’s shrill screams pierce her psyche.

Still, she practices for Koda.

Twice a day, a surly soldier brings her a meal, and if she’s lucky, Iroh comes down with a pot of tea before bed. Each time, he tries to pry information out of her about her past. Kira knows the efforts are innocent, purely out of curiosity, but it still irks her; who is he to dig into her personal life? Still, Kira appreciates the visits; it gives her something to look forward to, and Iroh has interesting stories about his time as a general.

He’d told her they were planning on taking her to the prison in a mining village in the western part of the Earth Kingdom, but on the fifth day of her imprisonment, she’s told they’re making a detour to Kyoshi Island—apparently, Zuko’s gotten word that the Avatar was there.

Kira’s heard bits and pieces about Zuko’s obsession with the newly returned Avatar. The soldiers like to gossip, and she listens intently to their bored voices traveling down the hall to her cell. She knows the Avatar is a young Air Nomad, and that Zuko foolishly let him get away at the Southern Water Tribe just days before Kira had been captured at the port.

She doesn’t exactly know why the prince is chasing an adolescent boy around the world, but she figures it has something to do with the scar that spans the left side of his face. She didn’t get a very good look at it in the darkness that one night but had seen how it covers his left eye and stretches across his ear; Fire Nation royalty don’t simply get half their face burnt off in a training accident. She hasn’t seen the boy since that night, which is perfectly fine with her. The spots where he’d pressed his Firebender fingers to her face are only just starting to heal.

Regardless, she’s going to use the detour to Kyoshi Island to her advantage. She knows from listening to the guards that they were due to dock in two days and that Zuko has ordered all hands on deck to confront the Avatar. Only three guards will remain on the ship—two to patrol the upper bridge and one to make sure she doesn’t escape. _Rookie mistake._

* * *

Zuko turns the telescope in his hands, scanning the horizon. Searching for the statue of Avatar Kyoshi that marks her namesake island. Absently, he wonders what the Avatar is doing at that moment. Is he plotting his next attack on Fire Nation troops? Zuko thinks about the boy he faced a week prior, with his wide eyes and obnoxious sense of whimsy. He’s so different than the powerful bender Zuko had been picturing for the past two years.

Zuko hates himself for letting him get away.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the large statue come into view just above the horizon. _Finally_. He instructs his crew to prepare for battle and climbs the stairs to his cabin to get ready.

Preparing for battle never ceases to excite Zuko. There’s something about the shouting across the ship, the rush of footsteps as soldiers leave their posts to don their armor. As a child, he loved watching his father get ready for war; a calm, collected leader in the face of general panic and frenzy. He hopes he comes across the same to his men, but he knows his temper and lack of experience sullies his reputation.

Zuko grabs his helmet from the table by his bedroll and heads back toward the deck. On the way, his ears catch a smooth voice—that girl, Kira. She’s teasing the guard standing outside her cell.

“You seem like you’d be real fun at parties. I know _I’m_ having a fantastic time conversing with you.” Kira’s mocking words are met with complete silence from the guard, as he’d been instructed to do.

Zuko hasn’t given much thought to his new prisoner, and if the news of the Avatar hadn’t come through, she’d probably be in an Earth Kingdom prison right now. He knows his uncle had been visiting her, bringing her tea, which Zuko thinks is a gesture far too kind to waste on such a pitiful creature.

When he’d confronted Iroh about his insistence on visiting the prisoner, he had replied that she was “an interesting young lady” and that if Zuko took the time to get to know her, he would find her “simply delightful.”

Zuko cares for his uncle, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he spends his time sipping tea with traitors.

Zuko’s men are waiting for him on the deck, and that familiar feeling of excitement fills him once again, replacing any thoughts of the girl waiting in the cell beneath his feet. This is his moment.

He’s finally going to capture the Avatar.

* * *

Kira has spent the better part of the last hour trying to get a rise out of the guard standing outside her cell. She’s tried everything, from making fun of the Fire Lord himself to insulting the soldier’s manhood. He remains stoic, but Kira can sense him reaching his limit.

But now she’s running out of time, the ship having emptied nearly half an hour ago. She just needs him to get pissed off enough to get closer to her…

“So what did you do to land guard duty today? Insult Zuko’s ponytail? Or does even the wimpy little prince know you’re not up for fighting the Avatar?”

That’s the one; she can see his shoulders tense, practically feel the forehead veins popping underneath his steel helmet.

“Listen here little girl—” the soldier drops to the ground, coming face to face with Kira, but before he can finish his threat, Kira knocks his faceplate off, socks him in the nose. He clutches his face, cursing her through blood-soaked fingers. While he’s down, the girl wraps her arm through the bars, grabs the back of his skull, slams his forehead into the steel with all her might. He drops cold, blood from his nose still dripping onto the floor beneath him.

Kira wonders where she’d be if she didn’t know how to fight. _Dead_ , comes the voice in the back of her head.

She reaches to the soldier’s belt, where a ring of keys is hooked, and begins trying each key on the lock. The fourth one does the trick and she steps out of the tiny container for the first time in a week.

Careful to step directly _on top_ of the unconscious soldier, Kira makes her way back to the deck of the ship. She stops to listen before exiting the cabin, but nothing prepares her for the scene that greets her.

The shore is littered with Fire Nation soldiers, each one locked in combat with identical girls dressed in green robes, adorned with golden fans and face makeup. _The Kyoshi Warriors._ Farther toward the village, Kira can see plumes of smoke rising from the buildings. She swallows a wave of nausea at the sight.

Since most of the surrounding brush is dense and overgrown, she has to cross the village square to make it to the other side of the island. Luckily, all of Zuko’s men are too distracted to notice her escape—even the two on the bridge are busy gaping at the sight before them.

She reaches the edge of the village, concealing herself in the trees, and realizes getting through undetected might be harder than she’d planned. Three large komodo-rhinos are roaming the grass, clearly having been abandoned by their riders. A huge bison hovers in the sky, his tail sending large gusts of air at the soldiers. Zuko himself is buried in a fight with the Avatar; Kira notices how much smaller and younger the Air Nomad is compared to the hotheaded Prince. She almost finds humor in the fact that Zuko was having such a hard time pinning this boy down.

Kira makes to dart to another grouping of trees, hoping to stay out of the line of fire, when she hears another young voice behind her.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

Kira spins around, face-to-face with a girl only a couple years her junior. Dark skin, bright blue eyes. She isn’t wearing the green of the Kyoshi Warriors, but blue robes. _Water Tribe,_ Kira thought. The girl steps into a fighting stance, catching Kira off guard. _She can’t think I’m with them?! Look at me!_

But Kira knows she had the distinctive look of a Fire Nation girl, and although she can usually pass as a refugee, having just exited a Fire Nation ship isn’t a good look.

For a split second, she weighs her options, figures there’s no way she’ll get out of this without a fight. The girl lunges and, as she brings her hand up in a sweeping motion, a stream of water follows, coming at Kira with the intensity of a whip. _She’s a bender!_

Kira barely manages to dodge the attack, and before the Waterbender can send another her way, Kira brings her leg up to the girl’s face, snapping her head around, long braid following. They tussle for a few moments longer, Kira dodging streams of water and sending kicks and punches back. The girl isn’t the strongest bender, but without a weapon, Kira can’t hold out much longer.

Then, there’s a large crash, and the Air Nomad boy emerges from settling dust, clearly having overpowered Zuko. The Water Tribe girl immediately forgets about Kira and races back to where the Avatar is standing, looking at the destruction with sorrow in his eyes.

Kira turns to make her escape; something shiny catches her eye. In the place the Waterbender had stood moments before lays a brilliant gem, carved with symbols of water and hanging off a piece of torn blue ribbon. It must have been ripped off the girl’s neck in the scuffle. Kira quickly bends down and picks it up, stuffing it into the pocket of her pants. Something like this will sell for a few hundred silver pieces at the market.

With her freedom all but secure and a source of money in her pocket, the girl makes her way out of the village center. She’s careful to check her surroundings for Fire Nation, but they are all busy scrambling to get their bearings as the Avatar and his companions make their escape on his flying bison.

The elation Kira feels at her liberation is palpable, so much so that when the soldier she’d knocked out comes out from behind a tree, he matches her wide grin through a blood-stained mouth.

* * *

“Back to the ship! Don’t lose them!” Zuko roars, but even as the words leave his mouth, he know the effort is futile. The Avatar is on a flying bison, and they’ll have to stop to refuel in within the next day. He curses himself for letting the boy get away. _Again_.

His vision is red, clouded by anger and shame. It's only made worse when he reached his ship’s deck to find one of his men, the one he’d assigned to guard duty, clutching his nose, blood dripping crimson through his fingertips. In the other hand is the collar of the girl, Kira. She wears a mask of defeat, entirely different from the defiant face he’d been met with the night she was captured.

Zuko presses two fingers between his brow, feeling that familiar headache come back. “What the hell happened now?”

Zuko can feel the soldier’s embarrassment as he relays the story of Kira escaping during the battle, nearly making it out before he came to and caught her right outside of the center of the village. Zuko has to give the girl props; she must have planned the escape perfectly after finding out about their stop to Kyoshi Island. He realizes with a twinge of respect that her earlier teasing of the guard had been a way to distract him. Her mistake lay in letting the guard live; he wonders vaguely if she’d even have the guts to finish the job.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t throw you overboard and leave you to the unagi?” Zuko sneers, leaning close enough to feel the heat emanating from her skin. Her face, although hardening in adolescence, still has a childlike innocence to it. He hates how someone so small ucan make him so irritated.

The corners of Kira’s mouth turn up, much to Zuko’s surprise.

“I have something that I think you’ll be interested in. Throw me overboard, and it’ll get eaten by the unagi along with me.” She reaches into her tunic and pulls out a round gemstone, carved with symbols of the Water Tribe. Attached is a ripped piece of cerulean ribbon. The Waterbender’s necklace.

“What exactly am I supposed to do with a piece of jewelry? Wear it and hope the Avatar mistakes me for his little girlfriend?” Kira’s eyes narrow, but Zuko can sense the exasperation in her expression. The prince feels a twinge of embarrassment at his lame attempt at a joke.

“I know a bounty hunter. She has this animal, a shirshu. It can sniff out any human scent in the world. Bring her this necklace, she’ll lead you right to the girl. And the Avatar.”

Zuko sighs heavily. For all he knows, she could be talking out of her ass. Still, he's just let the Avatar escape for a second time, and he has no leads.

“So, I’ll take your little necklace, dispose of you, and track this bounty hunter down myself. You’re not making a great case for your survival here.”

“June is pricey, but she doesn’t just accept anybody’s gold. For a job like this, you’d need to know someone in a high place. June happens to owe me a favor. If you promise me safe passage across the Earth Kingdom, as a _peer_ and _not_ a prisoner, I’ll help you catch the Avatar.” Her golden eyes bore into Zuko’s own.

“Oh, and I want my knife back too.”

Not for the first time that day, Zuko finds himself reluctantly impressed with the girl. She knows what it took to survive and clearly isn't afraid of stepping on toes to find her way. Fine. If she's going to play that game, he’ll play along. For now.

“Take her to the extra room in the cabin. Draw her a bath and find some clothes that don’t reek of the brig.” Zuko pushes past his men, doing his best to ignore their questioning eyes following him as he heads below deck.

* * *

The water is warm and it doesn't have the distinctive smell of river water. Kira can't remember the last time she'd taken a proper bath, the last time she'd run a comb through her tangled hair. She sits on the edge of her new bedroll and lets the events of the day sink in. She’d talked her way out of being thrown to the unagi. A small voice reminds her that the only reason she's alive is her promise to help hunt down the Avatar, the only person who can put an end to this idiotic war. Kira pushes the voice away. Survival is what's important.

Sitting on the bedroll is a set of clean clothes that Iroh had dropped off. Kira eyes them uncertainly. It had been years since she’d worn the colors of her home nation. Still, she's glad to get rid of the rags that had been hanging off her body for the last few weeks.

Iroh had left her a pair of burgundy pants that narrowed toward the calves, a similarly colored long-sleeved shirt, and a darker tunic that comes to mid-thigh. Gold accents litter the front of the tunic, and although they're subtle, Kira feels clownish as she slips the garments on. She's used to drab linens that allow her to blend in.

Iroh had also left her a small gold hair band adorned with the Fire Nation symbol. It feels pretentious in Kira’s calloused fingers, far too extravagant for her rough lifestyle. She figures she’ll do her best to fit in, and draws her thick waves into a half bun, sliding the hairpiece in place. Lastly, she takes her knife from the knapsack that had been returned to her earlier. She tucks it into the folds of her tunic. _Just in case._

Dinner is to be served soon, so Kira slides on her leather boots and makes her way to the dining cabin.

Her meals in the prison hole had been grub, the leftovers from the previous day’s food, but Iroh insists that she dine with the crew during their travels. She's content with joining the older man—he's nice enough—but could have done without Zuko’s presence. Their newfound relationship is built on convenience and manipulation. She's exploited his need of her expertise to spare her life; he's keeping her alive only because it benefits him. She has neither reason nor desire to get to know the boy.

As long as she has information that can get Zuko to the Avatar, she's safe. But Kira knows the minute Zuko foinds him, or she's no longer useful, she's as good as burnt komodo sausages.

* * *

Zuko despises having to sit across from Kira. She chews her roast duck, glancing around the table with an almost infuriating nonchalance. _Pretending like she belongs here. Who does she think she is?_

Still, Zuko has to admit that her transformation from the raggedy peasant to the girl sitting in front of him is impressive. Beneath the grime, she has sharp, dark features, and her slender muscles are accentuated by the red and gold robes she now wears. With the glinting Fire Nation hairpiece sitting atop her head, she could have passed for one of his sister’s friends back home. Perhaps if she was a girl he had met in the city, he would have even found her pretty.

But a bath and a comb through her hair still can't hide the wild look in her eyes. She may have been Fire Nation at one point in her life, but she hasn't been for a long, long time.

“So, Kira, I’m assuming from the fight you put up against Officer Jagin that you aren’t a bender.” Lieutenant Jee’s rough voice snaps Zuko back to the present. “A broken nose isn’t exactly the mark most of us would leave on an opponent.” Zuko's close enough to see Kira’s eyes darken—there's something about Jee’s comment that irks her—but her voice is smooth, giving nothing away.

“No, I’m not a bender. But I seem to be able to handle myself all the same.” Kira speaks with the confidence of someone who has dueled many a bender before. Judging by the scars littering her hands—burn marks and poorly healed cuts—she has stories to prove that.

“Where did you learn to fight?”

Zuko's surprised to hear his own voice ask the question. So is the rest of the table, if their wide eyes are any indication. He hadn’t intended to give the girl any attention, but he _is_ genuinely curious. Non-bending women, save for a few nobles’ daughters, aren't typically taught martial arts in the Fire Nation, so she must have learned elsewhere.

“I lived in a small village a day’s journey from Senlin for a while. There was a dojo there where I learned to fight.” There's a hint of melancholy in her voice, and Zuko is mostly unsurprised when she follows up with, “until the Fire Nation burned it to the ground.”

The table goes silent, unsure of whether to apologize or pretend she hasn't said anything. Zuko stares at the roast duck in front of him. He doesn't particularly care that her little town had been destroyed, but he hates the effect her words have on the rest of the crew. This is the cost of war; they should know that.

“Anybody going to eat the last duck leg?” Kira breaks the silence, either not noticing the awkwardness or simply unbothered by it. Unceremoniously, she reaches to the plate of food in the center of the table and begins loudly chewing the piece of meat, oblivious to the tension she's caused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting the first two chapters back-to-back because I think they work together as a good intro to where I'm taking this story! It'll be a couple days before the next update, but comments will light a fire under me (pun intended) to get it up soon!


	3. Waking Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I meant to get this up earlier, but a lot has been happening lately. I live in one of the American cities where there's been a lot of protests surrounding George Floyd's death, so my attention has been on supporting the movement how I can and listening/learning. It feels kind of weird to post this right now, but I think entertainment/art is important during times like this too. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please visit blacklivesmatters.cardd.co for educational resources and ways to help the cause!
> 
> Also, I wrote these first few chapters about a month ago, and originally they were in past tense, then I went back and changed to present tense, cause I felt like it more accurately reflected the characters' thought processes. These chapters feel kind of clunky to me for that reason, and cause I've read through them like 500x at this point, so please know that I'm still getting into the rhythm of the story!

Most of Kira’s time on the ship is spent watching Iroh play Pai Sho with the rest of the crew. Between games, she takes turns sparring with the soldiers. Some of them are still wary of her, and Jagin, the one whose nose she had broken, outright hates her. But a few are friendly enough, and once they find out she’s a formidable opponent in hand-to-hand combat, they eagerly agree to spar her.

Kira had always been small, even now, at sixteen. When she’d showed up at Koda’s dojo as a child, she was convinced she’d never be able to best grown men in combat. She threw everything her little body had at her opponent during spars, but they were always able to overpower her. She still remembers the day Koda took her aside after a particularly tough beating from an older boy.

_“You know why you keep losing, right?” Koda’s voice is stern, but his eyes soft and fatherly._

_“Yeah, because I’m too small. I’ll never be big enough to fight.” Kira looks down at her fists, curled tightly in agitation and already covered with cuts and bruises at such a young age._

_“No, it’s because you keep fighting like you’re bigger than you are. You_ are _small and you need to use that to your advantage. Instead of throwing your entire body weight at your opponent, use your agility to evade him. Then strike when he least expects it.”_

After that day, Kira started to come into herself as a fighter. She weaved in and out of her opponents grasp, nimbly avoiding punches and coming at her opponent while they recovered. Koda had her run strength and flexibility drills in addition to learning the katas, and she quickly advanced at the dojo.

Her short time with Koda was the last time Kira could remember feeling genuinely happy. She loved learning to fight, but more than that, she felt at peace while she did it. She was strong and agile, and the movements of a fight just made sense in her mind. It was like a choreographed dance, except neither person knew the other’s moves until the moment they were made. Round and round they went, trying to guess what their partner would do before they did it.

That’s how Kira feels while she spars Tizon, a soldier a few years her senior. His technique is advanced, but he’s just coming off the tail end of puberty, and still not completely comfortable in his new, grown body. His movements are clumsy, and when he lunges toward Kira to throw a punch, she sees hesitation in his footing. She drops to the ground, balancing on the ball of her right foot while her left foot swings in a graceful arc. Her leg hits Tizon’s, and his feet come out from under him, sending him flying onto his back. Kira hops to her feet and wipes the sweat off her brow with a smirk

“Alright, alright, Thief Girl. You win again.” Some of the crew have become accustomed to calling her that, a cheeky nod to the way they’d met. She rolls her eyes at Tizon, but silently, she enjoys it. The name represents something she hasn’t felt in a long time: comradery.

She’s already been on Zuko’s ship for a few weeks, and the setting is becoming more comfortable every day. She has to remind herself that this is temporary, that regardless of whether or not Zuko’s mission is successful, she’ll be on her own again soon enough. She is _not_ Fire Nation.

As such, she lets herself enjoy the hot meals and comfortable sleeping arrangements but is careful not to get close to anyone. Despite her rapport with Iroh and the soldiers, she keeps any mention of her personal life, especially her upbringing, to herself.

She’d also taken silent inventory of the ship’s many passages and exits. She knows that if shit hit the fan, there are two steam-powered riverboats below deck, and the engine room has a small hatch that opens to the back side of the ship, in case of emergencies.

They’re still a week from the trading village where June can usually be found, and they need to refuel soon. Kira had considered taking off when they dock but knows her chances of making it out alive before fulfilling her end of the bargain are slim. Besides, she may be the Thief Girl, but she still has some semblance of honor. As long as Zuko is willing to clothe and feed her, she won’t cheat him.

“Hey, next time it’ll be you against the benders. We’ll see how you fare then.” Tizon thumps Kira on the back as he moves past, jerking her from her thoughts. The soldiers are worn out from sparring, most of them sitting on the deck chugging water and fanning themselves.

Kira hadn’t noticed how hot it had gotten under the midday sun. The farther they move into Earth Kingdom territory, the warmer the days get. Kira had stripped down to her sarashi and pants for combat and moves towards the ship’s bow to retrieve her tunic. As she turns back toward the bridge, her eyes meet those of the prince. He’s eyeing her warily, and when they make eye contact, he swiftly turns and starts up the stairs to the bridge, ponytail following.

Kira wonders how long he’d been watching her. They’d barely talked since the first night she’d eaten with them. She knows she’d hit a nerve with the comment about the Fire Nation destroying her village. Shortly after the exchange, he’d excused himself to his quarters for the night, even though it was barely dusk. Kira hoped that in that moment, he’d felt bad for his nation’s actions, leaving to mull over the morality of the war he was fighting, but she knew he was just pissed at her for speaking so brazenly.

The sun is just beginning to arc to the west; she has plans to meet Iroh for tea soon. She looks forward to visits with the old man now that she’s no longer a prisoner. He’s stopped pestering her for personal information, and she satiates him with stories from her travels as a refugee. In turn, he tries to teach her the strategy behind Pai Sho. At times, Kira can’t believe she’s casually drinking tea with a former Fire Nation General. Kira had been eleven when Iroh left his post and news of his only son’s death had travelled quickly through the Capital. She remembers feeling sorry for the man, knowing how devastated her own father would be to lose her.

_If only I had known._

* * *

Zuko can’t sleep. Whenever he closes his eyes, images of the Avatar swim before him, taunting him by riding around on a spinning ball of air; he’ll push the vision out of his mind, and his father will pop right in, laughing at Zuko’s inability to catch a twelve-year-old boy. After hours of tossing fitfully, he slips on his robe and makes his way to the upper deck. Maybe some fresh air will do him good.

He’s startled to see another figure standing toward the bow. It’s Kira; she’s leaning on the railing, her back to him, the moonlight bathing her body in a shimmery outline. The scene, had it been with another girl, may have looked romantic, and Zuko is reminded that he no longer has the privilege for romance. The scar spanning his face tingles, as if to further prove the point.

He has half a mind to turn around before she sees him, but this is his ship, and he isn’t going to let a little girl on a midnight stroll dictate his actions.

He keeps his distance, settling by the railing a good ten feet from her. If she notices him, she gives no indication. He turns his attention to the water, inhaling the salt-filled air. Some Firebenders hate the water, it being the opposite of their element. Zuko, however, relishes in the sound of the waves hitting the hull. It reminds him of summers on Ember Island, hunting for strange creatures in tidepools and making sandcastles of the palace back home.

The water reminds Zuko of buried memories of his family, back when they had been happy. When his mom was still with him. He bathes in the silence, shadows of a forgotten childhood dancing behind his eyes.

“Our families used to know each other, you know.”

Zuko almost jumps at the sound of Kira’s voice, which rings clearly through the still night. Has he accidentally spoken of his family out loud? Why is she bringing it up?

“My father sat on Azulon’s, and eventually your father’s, council for many years. We lived close to the palace.”

Kira’s family was nobility? How exactly had she ended up as a peasant, sneaking into his galley for a measly meal? She must have sensed his confusion, because she speaks again without him prompting.

“About a year after your father was named Fire Lord, my father was found to be secretly speaking against the war and the throne.”

Of course, this girl’s family had been traitors. Her father had been thrown in jail, and having been raised by such a man, Kira had deserted the Fire Nation herself.

“If your father was conspiring against his nation, he got what he deserved,” he says through gritted teeth. After all, he had defied the Fire Lord himself, and look where he had ended up. Kira hadn’t met his gaze through their entire conversation, her eyes trained on the watery horizon. From his position to her left, Zuko can clearly see the small scar that cuts her eyebrow in two.

“The guards set fire to our house in the middle of the night. My parents both burned to death. The only reason I was able to escape was because my father had prepared for something to happen. He knew we couldn’t all make it, so he sent me out the back door. I was eleven.” Zuko can’t see Kira’s face, and her voice gives nothing away. She speaks as plainly as if he had asked for the weather.

Zuko is dumbfounded. Death as punishment isn’t common in the Capital City, and part of Zuko wants to believe she’s lying. But a larger part of him knows his own father better than that. He’d left his heir with a permanent deformity simply for speaking against a battle maneuver; he could only imagine the punishment for someone so close to him conspiring against him.

“I left the Fire Nation before you did. I don’t know exactly what happened to you to end up here, but I have a feeling your scar wasn’t the result of a sparring accident. You seem to think you and I have nothing in common, but the truth is, we’re more similar than we are different. We’ve both been shunned by our nations, left to fend for ourselves while armies hired to protect us burn the earth around our feet. You think what you’re doing will bring you honor, but there’s no honor in fighting this futile war.”

Zuko feels a hot flash of anger and has to keep himself from sending a hot stream of fire towards the girl. He wants to grab her face like he had that first night they met and send fire through his fingertips, this time making sure he leaves a mark. He wants to give the girl her own scar, since she thinks they are so similar.

“You and I are nothing alike. I am the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, a member of the Royal Family, the heir to the throne. I have nothing in common with a peasant girl whose father paid the ultimate price for his insubordination. You are nothing but vermin, and my blood runs thick with the pedigree of kings. I fight for a noble cause, something bigger than you will ever stand for.”

Zuko tries to keep his voice as calm as hers, but his words fill with venom as the hate rises in his body. He finds himself stepping within a foot of her; she keeps facing forward, not so much as flinching at the closeness between them. The urge to hurt her keeps building, and Zuko turns his back to the girl, moving swiftly toward the cabin.

Part of him wants to look back before opening the door to his quarters, but he already knows he’d find her in the same position, staring intently at the horizon.

Zuko crawls back into bed; his fitful sleep is marred by dreams of burning houses and girls with eyebrow scars.

* * *

Zuko rubs his eyes sleepily, trying to get last night’s conversation out of his head. Kira’s words had rung in his head all through breakfast and Lieutenant Jee’s current debriefing. He hates how easily she’s gotten to him, how someone so insignificant can occupy so much of his mind. He doesn’t have time to think about girls whose families had betrayed his own, he has to focus on catching the Avatar. That is all that matters.

He’s set to have a sparring session with a couple of the soldiers that morning, and the knowledge that he’ll be training is all that keeps him from sending a blast of fire through the hull of his own ship. He tries to focus on Jee’s voice, pushing the image of Kira standing on the bow, bathed in the moonlight, out of his head.

“…we’ll dock at Paar Harbor and refuel, and then it’s another four days’ time to the town where the bounty hunter is, according to the _girl_.” Jee says the last word with a distinctive air of distaste. Zuko knows he isn’t happy with the decision to let her live.

While most of the other soldiers, save for Jagin, the one she’d attacked on Kyoshi Island, had warmed up to the girl’s presence, Jee sees Zuko’s choice to let her stay as immature and cowardly, not to mention a direct jab at his authority as lieutenant.

“Prince Zuko, are you alright?” Iroh’s voice comes from beside him, and Zuko realizes the rest of the crew has dispersed, leaving him standing alone.

“Everyone else has gone to their posts. You seemed lost in your thoughts.” Iroh puts his hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’m ready to train,” Zuko snaps, pushing past his uncle and down the stairs, making his way onto the deck. Two of his officers, Mago and Jiron, are warming up, getting ready to spar. The thought of training sends tingles of excitement down Zuko’s spine. The sun is shining brightly overhead, and the young Bender can feel the fire within him rise.

Thirty grueling minutes later, Mago and Jiron, exhausted from sparring, sit on the deck of the boat. They’d spent the last half hour running the same set, the two Benders coming at Zuko from each side while he dodged and counterattacked. Zuko can still feel his energy buzzing; he isn’t ready to quit yet.

“Let’s run it one more time.” The two officers look up at him, out of breath, then glance over at Iroh, who’d been instructing them from a chair by the railing. One hand is holding a bowl filled with roast duck.

“Zuko, you’ve trained enough for today. The soldiers are tired, and my duck is getting cold.” Iroh has always had a way of making the most minute problems, like not being able to eat his lunch, sound like the gravest of issues. When he was a kid, Zuko had thought his Uncle’s dramatics were funny; now, it just grinds his gears.

“Fine. I’ll run some exercises myself. Do whatever you want. Officers, you’re dismissed,” Zuko huffs. It isn’t unusual for him to boss his men around, but even he can tell that he’s in a particularly bad mood that afternoon. Whether it’s from lack of sleep or the prior night’s run-in with Kira, whatever tension Zuko is harboring is palpable.

He spends the next few minutes shooting fireballs at nothing in particular, watching the flames dissipate a few feet from his fist. Shortly after his exile, when Iroh had first brought Zuko under his tutelage, he’d given him many a lecture about the essence of fire; how, while it is the only element that benders actually create on their own, it is also the only element that has its own agenda once it leaves a bender’s control.

While earth, water, and air are generally harmless after being dropped, fire can create destruction just as easily as it can disappear with the wind. Firebenders, therefore, have a unique responsibility with their powers: as easily as they can light a candle, they can burn down a house. Once again, Zuko’s attention is brought back to his conversation with Kira. _Burning houses and girls with eyebrow scars_.

“Wanna spar?”

The voice—Kira’s voice—shakes Zuko from his thoughts. Somehow, the girl has a habit of showing up whenever he wants her around the least. He turns to see her leaning against the railing where Iroh’s chair had been. He wonders how long she’d been standing there, watching him aimlessly shooting fire at an invisible enemy. Her eyes are dark, her gaze concentrated. Zuko remembers that he had removed his shirt during training, and suddenly feels much more naked than he had a few minutes prior.

“You seem like you’re itching for a fight.” Zuko realizes he hadn’t answered the girl. She seems unbothered, both by his lack of shirt and his indifference. “I’m no bender, but I can put up a pretty good fight against your men. Plus, I’m about the size of an average twelve-year-old boy, so it’ll be good practice.” Kira cracks a smile at her last sentence.

Zuko has seen Kira spar with the other officers before, and he has to admit that she’s a decent fighter. She’s quick on her feet and uses her small stature to her advantage. She can outmaneuver men who’d trained for years with the Royal Armies.

He doesn’t particularly want to be around her right now, but he is desperate to release his pent-up energy, and thinks that knocking Kira to the ground might alleviate some of the annoyance he feels at her.

“Fine. Just hand-to-hand, no bending. I’ll go easy on you.” It’s Zuko’s turn to smirk.

“Why thank you, your honorable Prince Ponytail. I’ll be sure to send my regards to the Avatar when I tell him I beat your ass.” Kira sends him a wink, and, despite himself, Zuko feels a flush rise to his cheeks. Kira’s playful banter is such a stark contrast to the icy demeaner she’d exhibited the night prior, and while Zuko doesn’t really know what flirting looks like, the exchange makes him realize how long it has actually been since he’s interacted with a girl his age.

He takes a deep breath, clearing his mind and stepping into a fighting stance. Kira mirrors his movements, her golden eyes trained on his own. For a split second, they both move in slow motion, then it’s a flurry of movement: Zuko sends a punch toward the girl, she spins, his fist grazes her ponytail. She arches her leg up, coming within inches of his face, but he ducks in time to miss her attack. 

Zuko stumbles backwards, but catches his footing, jumping to the left to evade another of Kira’s kicks, dropping to the ground and swinging his own legs in a circle. He hits Kira’s ankles and she falls back, but catches herself just in time, rolling backwards and up onto her feet.

It’s Kira’s turn to throw a punch, and Zuko feels a burst of pain as her fist connects with his lower jaw. He snaps his head back to face her and grabs her right arm, bringing his leg up to meet her torso. He feels the wind leave her and she stumbles onto her back, coughing.

Without his bending, the fight is close, but Zuko’s intensive training has left him muscular and strong. He has to give it to his uncle, as well—daily meditation sessions have given him a mental clarity that he uses to his advantage (Iroh would complain that fighting is the only place Zuko exhibits mental clarity). Kira, while athletic and agile, is weaker from years of scrounging for meals and lacks the refinement that had been drilled into Zuko.

She is a _fighter_ though; he’ll give her that. She hops onto her feet just as quickly as she’d gone down, and Zuko throws another punch her way. She easily dodges it, returning the favor with a fist of her own. They continue this dance for a while: attack, block, attack, dodge, until a well-placed kick sends Zuko down.

He feels his anger flare, bitter that Kira has managed to get the upper hand. He wants to shoot a fireball straight toward the girl, but instead swings his legs back around, and, as she jumps to avoid his attack, sends another kick straight to her stomach. She drops once more, harder this time. After a moment, she sits up on the deck.

“Okay, okay. I yield,” Kira sighs. “But only because it’s lunchtime and the chef’s making spicy noodles.”

She stands up with a groan and turns away, stretching her muscles as she makes her way toward the galley, leaving the Zuko standing alone, still buzzing with energy.

* * *

Kira had found some ice in the galley and is sitting by a rain-soaked window in the common room, icing a bruise on her torso. The fight with Zuko had been admittedly fun but had left Kira’s body aching. Their conversation the night prior had hung heavy between them throughout the sparring session, and Kira would be lying if she didn’t admit that throwing a few punches at the boy had helped.

Kira isn’t sure why she had chosen to tell Zuko about her family, especially after promising herself she wouldn’t open up to anybody. She’d woken up in a cold sweat after a familiar nightmare: the smell of fire, her mother’s screams, her father ushering her out of the door despite her protests. The maniacal faces of Fire Nation guards as they unleashed their destruction on her family. Fresh air always cleared her head, but by the time the prince had shown up next to her, the images were still as fresh as they had been on that night five years ago.

She’d been wondering if Zuko had even recognized her for a while. She didn’t personally have much interaction with the family. She’d been a couple years above his sister, Azula, in school, and had sometimes attended events at the palace. To think that she once lived a life of nobility almost made her laugh aloud. The five years since her parent’s deaths have turned her wily and untamed, a stark contrast to the formality and civility of Royal Caldera City. She remembers her mother begging her to sit still long enough to tie ribbons in her hair before a Fire Days Festival event at the palace. Even as a child, she’d been unruly.

The shadows of the conversation still lingered, and Kira feels a lump of uncertainty settle in her stomach. Zuko had been angry with her, sure, but it wasn’t the anger that frightened her. He’d never admit it, but Kira could tell Zuko wasn’t sure he believed the words coming out of his own mouth.

_“I fight for a noble cause, something bigger than you will ever stand for.”_ Kira had felt the uncertainty in his voice. She couldn’t trust a man who didn’t even trust himself.

Zuko had, however, been spot on about the last part of that sentence. Kira has never stood for anything in her life, except her own survival.

Sure, she thinks the war is trivial, has met and respected many people who work to stop the Fire Nation. She just thinks their efforts are fruitless as well. She doesn’t have the privilege of fighting for a greater good when she isn’t even sure where her next meal is coming from. And now that her meals are coming from the war mongers themselves, she doesn’t really want to think about the morality of it all.

She wonders what her life would be like if she were still a girl in the Capital City. Would her words be filled with venom when she spoke of anyone who wasn’t Fire Nation? Would she be following Azula around like so many of the girls at school did, out of admiration, fear, or a mixture of both?

A few of the soldiers, including Lieutenant Jee, are sitting around a makeshift fire, drinking something that smells strongly of alcohol. Kira had declined to join them; she knows Jee isn’t her biggest fan. She’d overheard him complaining to the ship’s engineer that a woman on board would be too ‘distracting’ to his men.

They’re talking amongst themselves; apparently, Zuko had completely disregarded Jee’s authority that morning, ignoring his debriefing in favor of “daydreaming like the idiot teenager he is.” Jee takes another swig of booze, his words losing their sharpness with every sip. “All he does is disrespect the people who work for him. If I have to hear him bark another dumb order at me, I swear I’ll…” he trails off.

“Please try to understand my nephew. He is a complicated young man.” Iroh’s clear voice echoes off the walls of the cabin, and the soldiers turn to see the old man standing in the doorway. Kira can see a flush rise in Jee’s face; even in retirement, Iroh still outranks him.

“General Iroh, sir, I—” Jee stutters, but Iroh silences him with a wave of his hand.

“It is okay, Lieutenant. I know Prince Zuko can be frustrating, but his anger is more understandable once you know his story. I don’t suppose you know how Prince Zuko acquired his scar?”

Kira’s ears perk up at the mention of Zuko’s scar. She’s morbidly curious where exactly the gruesome mark had come from. Iroh takes a seat in front of the fire, meeting Kira’s eyes with a soft smile. He settles into the chair with the air of someone about to tell a great tale of the spirits.

“Zuko was thirteen when he requested a seat at his father’s war meeting. I warned him against attending, but he was a curious boy, and passionate about one day taking his place on the throne.”

“There was a plan to ambush an Earth Kingdom battalion, using an army of new recruits as bait to distract the soldiers,” Iroh continues. “Zuko spoke up against it, knowing it was a hostile plan ending in the sacrifice our rookie troops. He was right, but in speaking against the general, he’d directly disrespected Fire Lord Ozai’s authority. As punishment for speaking out, Zuko was challenged to an Agni Kai. My nephew, even at thirteen, was headstrong. He wasn’t afraid to fight.”

Agni Kai. The fire duel is an infamous Fire Nation tradition—a fight for one’s honor, only over when one participant burns the other; in some cases, it is a fight to the death. As a child, Kira had heard of Agni Kai being held in the Capital City, even a few happening at the Academy, but the idea of a thirteen-year-old boy being challenged to one still sends shivers down her spine.

“However, Prince Zuko was mistaken in thinking he was to duel the general. Although he’d spoken out against him, he’d done so in the Fire Lord’s throne room. Zuko was to duel his own father. He refused, and Ozai burned him.”

“For refusing to fight, Prince Zuko was exiled, forced to hunt down the Avatar for a chance to regain his honor, and his place as heir to the throne.”

Iroh’s story hangs heavy in the air. The silence in the room is palpable, magnifying the sound of heavy raindrops reverberating on the ship’s deck. Kira’s mind swims with images of young Zuko, wondering what the teenager had been like at thirteen. Had he always been so uptight? Or had he been normal, happy even, before his father had scarred him? The boy she’d sometimes seen from afar at palace parties was quiet, usually attached to his mother’s hip. How had she let something like that happen to her son?

Kira remembers a fleeting thought from weeks past; after her failed escape attempt on Kyoshi Island, while Zuko was debating whether or not to feed her to the unagi. _This jackass deserves whatever happened to his face_ , she’d thought. The sudden recollection leaves a guilty lump in Kira’s throat. Iroh was right: his story had at least given context to Zuko’s anger.

_He’s still a jackass, though._


End file.
